Queen Elizabeth and the Demon King
by BaconWaffle2016
Summary: In the aftermath of Liones being usurped by Hendrickson, acting Queen Elizabeth must carry out her father's last wish, one that will no doubt save her kingdom. The first step in doing this, however, is to enlist the help of the most unlikely of allies—the wrathful Demon King, Meliodas. This might not be her best decision. [EMD fanfic for BettyBest2]
1. Old Story, New World

Posting this super late, but if you read me on AO3, then you already know:

 _This time last year, while I was between jobs, writing projects, and life in general, I noticed BettyBest starting to publish a new NNT story. I had gleaned at We'll Meet Again so I knew of her talents when it came to writing, but I held off for a little while. Months later, after getting my life in order, I finally sat down and read it. It was probably the best and worst decision of my life. I laughed, I screamed, I gave lectures to the characters in my head (Jesus Christ, Meliodas and Elizabeth), and there were times where I cried a little._

 _So, when TheGreatLlamaFish and later lickitysplit told me about today, I knew I had to jump in. Originally, this fic was supposed to be something funny that turns into smut...but then, I had this other idea. One that just wouldn't leave me alone. And once I told lickitysplit, she basically told me, "You better sit yo' ass down and write this," (I've been yelled at a lot by her for a few days. It's hilarious), and so I did._

 _And it all started with a question:_

 ** _What if Veronica won?_**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Seven Deadly Sins, or its characters. I hardly even own this story, which is owed to to BettyBest2 and her baby _Enlighten My Darkness_. But I did my best, and everyone seems to enjoy the concept so far. So, here we go.**

* * *

 **-Part 1: Old Story, New World-**

With eyes wide and rounded, one blue eye showing while the other is hidden behind a curtain of silver bangs, Elizabeth stares ahead at the _gigantic_ castle resting at the crest of the mountain she and her companion will journey towards. An ancient, obsidian castle with towers that coil high into the sky, much like a giant snake, or perhaps a multi-headed dragon. It's more like a fortress than a home for royalty—an _evil_ fortress.

Elizabeth waits a beat, expecting the cloudy skies to strike lightning above the castle along with a clap of thunder, but of course it doesn't come. She tightens her hold on her hooded fleece cloak, her trembling, gloved hands balling into tight fists in the fabric.

"...My Queen?"

She jumps, not at the voice, but at the title. Elizabeth is still getting used to her heavy crown, despite not officially wearing it. She turns to look at Merlin, who has been walking beside her. Merlin narrows her gold eyes in concern.

"Are you alright?" She asks.

Elizabeth attempts to smile and replies, "Y-yes. But Merlin, you don't need to be so formal. Elizabeth is fine, as usual." _'Please_ ,' she begs mentally.

"Alright then, Elizabeth. Let's go then," Merlin says with a small smile.

Despite what she said, the thought of moving closer to their destination makes Elizabeth's stomach churn. A little paler than normal, she looks up at the castle again and licks her dry mouth. Then, as Merlin turns to walk ahead, Elizabeth starts.

"W-wait, Merlin—!"

Merlin turns to look back at her from over her shoulder. She quirks a brow. "What is it?"

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Elizabeth gives a wobbly smile and says, "...D-do we really need _seven_ people? Especially one who is a…" She pauses to look back at the castle, her gaze focusing briefly on the emblem painted on the one of the red flags flaring from one peak—a spiral of black, which flares like an inky sun—and she cringes briefly before smiling at Merlin. "I mean, do we really need _him_ for Wrath? I know a few angry displaced Holy Knights who could fill the slot much better."

Merlin's eyebrows draw downward as she frowns, her expression becoming flat. She slowly turns to walk back to stand in front of Elizabeth. She stares down at the young Queen for a few moments, and then lifts a hand to flick a finger against Elizabeth's forehead.

"Ow!" Elizabeth flinches and holds the red spot growing in the center of her forehead. Pouting, she glares up at the older woman. "Merlin!"

Merlin flicks her again.

" _Okay, okay_ , I get it." She tries smiling, shrugging sheepishly. "Couldn't hurt to try though, right?"

"Elizabeth, I swear on Liones I will do it again, and much worse." At Elizabeth's flinch, Merlin sighs. Her expression softens. "You are a Queen now, dearest. You cannot afford to show fear, not now. Not when we have to fulfill your father's last request."

Elizabeth exhales sharply, quickly turning her gaze away before she can reveal how her eyes are close to watering. Because, despite all her fears, Merlin is right. She's not the third Princess of Liones anymore, but _the Queen_. Elizabeth never thought such a title could be so heavy, but with everything that's happened...she knows she can't just shrug it off. She has to do right by her people, and what's left of her family; even if what she has to do _terrifies her_.

Finally, as she steels her nerves, Elizabeth turns to give Merlin a hard, determined look and nods. Merlin smiles, a hint of pride in the quirk of her lips, and the two restart their stride towards the castle.

"If we're eaten alive though," Elizabeth can't help but tease, if only to ease the tension, "don't blame me."

"Don't be ridiculous, Highness. Demons don't eat _people_."

For a moment, Elizabeth allows herself to feel a sense of relief—

"They eat people's souls."

Elizabeth squawks, her bravado fading for the moment as she gapes after a smirking Merlin. She groans lowly and rolls her eyes up to the heavens, if the skies of the Demon Realm have such a place, and silently bemoans as she continues walking, ' _I should have stayed back at the tavern with Hawk._ '

~.~.~

In many ways, Liones was not that special of a kingdom. The people were generally happy, the economy rarely suffered, and they had a royal family who treated them well. Oh, it wasn't weak—how could it be, with two powerful Grand Masters and their respective factions of Holy Knights?—but it also wasn't a place you'd expect much to happen. Liones had little enemies when it came to other kingdoms or even clans. There was the occasional invasion, of course, but again, the Holy Knights were always powerful enough to defend against any foe. Probably the worst interactions people had was with the Demon Clan, but even those incidences could be dealt with. Overall, Liones was a peaceful kingdom.

Until three months ago, soon after Elizabeth turned eighteen.

At first, it had started with rumors. Tall tales of creatures—blood thirsty and dripping with an inky, caustic substance that could melt flesh right to the bone—coming out of nowhere and attacking people in the forests. Then, there would be reports of whole townships destroyed by... _something_ , something that would leave behind endless gore and rubble, along with puddles of that strange, dark liquid.

Initially, everyone went to the most obvious answer: _Demons_.

It was an easy theory to cling to, for demons are known for craving blood and destruction. They'd attacked villages before, mad with an ancient bloodlust, even as they consumed soul after soul in a gluttonous show of power. These recent mysterious attacks had probably been sanctioned by the Demon King himself. Perhaps, after years of being unsealed, he had finally regained his full power and decided to continue spreading his legendary wrath across Britannia. Many stories had been told about him and his power, most of them tales meant to frighten children, so this was even easier to believe.

("Better go to sleep soon, Ellie. Otherwise the Demon King will steal you away and _eat you_!"

"Hey, don't say that! You know stuff like that gives me nightmares..."

"But _it's true_! He'll come out from under your bed, grab your leg and say, ' _Roar!_ I've come to eat your soul'!"

" _Veronica—!_ ")

Of course, the more the Holy Knights saved and the more they did their rounds around the kingdom, it soon became surprisingly apparent that this was not the work of demons.

Most kings would have felt afraid under such a threat, especially as the attacks grew closer and closer to Liones; King Baltra only nodded solemnly at each report and had his Holy Knights tighten their security. Even when Elizabeth would voice her own worries, he would place a hand on her head and smile, saying with utmost certainty, "You will be fine, Elizabeth. This I promise you."

And because Elizabeth trusted her father more than anyone else in the world, she believed him.

...

...

...

...

Soon after, Liones was burning; lit with an inferno that was threatening to consume the entire kingdom. Along with the flickering of flames came the agonized screams of citizens being killed by the horde—bigger than ever described in any horror story—of snarling, tainted creatures, and the battle cries of Holy Knights. They had arrived just as the stories said, without warning and out of nowhere. And Liones was losing to them.

During this, Elizabeth was running through the hallways, desperately searching the west wing for her father and Margaret, while Gilthunder was searching the east. Veronica had gone with Griamore and Dreyfus to join in the fight against the beasts, so Elizabeth had trusted that she'd be safe. Veronica was ( _is_ ) the bravest woman Elizabeth knew ( _knows_ ). There was little doubt she'd fall.

In the end, Elizabeth wasn't the one to find Margaret. But she did find her father, collapsed and gasping in the center of his throne room, his sword across the room. From his chest, on which there were many deep and gaping wounds, blood was flowing to the floor—too much and too fast to be affected by Elizabeth's healing powers.

And standing above him, wearing a wide, mad grin Elizabeth had never seen on him and veins of darkness inking along his skin, stood the second Grand Master, Elizabeth's teacher and friend— _Hendrickson_.

Which has led to now, to Elizabeth traveling with Merlin to the Demon Realm, to them stepping up to the castle housing the worst of all demons, someone who should have stayed sealed in the Coffin of Eternal Darkness, along with the rest of his infernal race. To speak to the person King Baltra had told her to find, who would help lead the strongest of people in taking back Liones, possibly even Britannia herself: Meliodas, the Demon King.

~.~.~

"...Think they could make the door big enough?"

"Behave, Highness." Merlin gives Elizabeth a playful smirk before stepping to the side. She bows slightly at the waist and stretches her arm toward the front of them in a theatrical gesture, her eyes gleaming. "After you," she says.

Elizabeth slides her gaze back to the door to the castle's outer wall, hundreds of feet tall and made of stone. The door itself is made of wood, but looks as strong as the rest of the structure; in its center is a huge brass door knocker carved into the face of a snarling dragon.

It takes holding it with both hands for Elizabeth to lift the door knocker away from the wood, only to slam it against the door, the sound echoing through the land like a gong; when she and Merlin hear no response, Elizabeth grunts and repeats the motion twice more.

And then, finally: "...Who the hell are you?"

Elizabeth steps back to see two demons, one male with a thin mustache and the other a female with blonde hair sticking out around her head, sticking their heads out and glowering down at her from over the ledge. She withers under their glare only a moment before squaring her shoulders and glowering back, her hands clenching into tight fists. These demons can hate her all they want, but she's already resolved to go through with this mission.

"My name is Elizabeth, daughter of King Baltra, and acting Queen of Liones," she says in a hard tone that demands, the way Queens do, her blue eye glinting like steel. "And I have come to see your King."

She waits a moment, then longer than that. The two demons converse with each other, the female's mouth set into a sneer as she glares down at Elizabeth and Merlin. Her companion regards them as well, though his eyes seem to crinkle in amusement. After minute or so more of staring up at them, Elizabeth is certain she'll never get a proper answer, especially as a new demon joins the duo above. She can't see much details about him, other than his round, soft looking face ( _'A child...?'_ ) and spiky black hair. She watches as he stares down at her with cold black eyes that seem to gleam— _Curiosity?_

But she has no time to think about it, for the demon hops over the wall's ledge and leaps down to meet her. As he lands on his feet with not even a cringe, Elizabeth watches him stride toward her with the sort of confidence she doesn't expect from someone at his height (five feet, maybe even five-two), let alone with that childish face. But Elizabeth doubts he is a child, given the hostile edge of his jaw and the blade tied at his hip.

Once he's in front of Elizabeth, head tilted upward as he narrows his black eyes and turns down his mouth in a curious frown, the demon with the slicked back, spiky black hair mutters, "How the hell are you still alive?"

Elizabeth blinks wide eyes, her mind going blank, except for a very intelligent, _'Huh?'_

He snorts at her blank look, his mouth forming into a smirk. "What's the matter?" He asks her. "Don't recognize me? I'm a little hurt, honestly."

After throwing a disturbed look to Merlin, who shrugs, Elizabeth turns to face the demon again. Her blue eye is still round as she clenches her hands beside her.

"I-I'm sorry, but," she says, "am I supposed to...? I've never been here before."

He stares at her some more, blinking his black eyes slowly. Then, as Elizabeth's unease grows more visible, his smirk shrinks and his eyes narrow. He takes a step back and stares at Elizabeth some more, as if to reevaluate her. But why? Elizabeth can't help but wonder.

"...I suppose I could be mistaken," he says softly, as if to himself. Then he hardens his expression towards Elizabeth, his gaze turning into a glower. "Why are you here, human?"

"I-I'm here to..." Elizabeth pauses to clear her throat and shrug off the awkward moment. She closes her eyes, calls back to that steel and _command_ , and then opens them to regard him with a cool look as she tells him, "I am Elizabeth, Queen of Liones. And I am here to see your King on an urgent matter."

His brows draw downward. "And what is this 'urgent matter' you want to trouble our King with?"

"That's for he and I to discuss."

The black-haired demon frowns deeper, just barely a scowl. But after what seems like a moment of contemplation, he nods in acquiescence. Then he tilts his head to look behind Elizabeth, where Merlin is standing.

"And you?" He asks her.

"I'm her escort," Merlin says, stepping closer to Elizabeth. She slides her gold gaze to the younger woman, and while her expression remains her stoic, the warmth there is as reassuring as always. "And she will not be going inside, or anywhere else without me near her."

He sneers a little, and for a moment Elizabeth is terrified that she'll have to go inside _alone_ , but then he scoffs. He glares off to the side in thought, and then gives a curt nod.

"You will be allowed inside the castle, but I cannot guarantee the King will see you. He doesn't really respond well to...uninvited guests," he tells them, sliding his glower from Merlin to focusing on Elizabeth, his tone firm, "While inside, you are not to leave my side for even an instant. Do not touch anything, do not go inside any rooms, and don't speak to anyone, not unless you get the King's approval. Understand?"

Elizabeth nods frantically and surprised, because well— _'I honestly didn't think I'd get this far the first time around._ '—while Merlin quirks a brow, her mouth a straight line. She has no plans to do as the demon says, especially when she'll be around so much information and research on demon lore. Elizabeth notices this with a frown and very gently elbows her friend in the side. She cares not what Merlin does with her time, for the woman seems older than time itself and just as wise, as long as she makes sure not to risk any harm towards her. In the weeks since coming to Camelot, Elizabeth has grown very close to the Royal Mage; she would hate for any harm to befall her. Merlin rolls her eyes a little, but nods as well.

The black haired demon stares at them some more, before tilting his head to yell at the other two demons, his voice like gravel, "Open the gates! We've got company."

While the female demon sneers, the male next to her nods and gives a mock salute. Then they both disappear from the ledge. After minute or so, the sound of cranks and gears turning fills the air. Slowly, the giant doors begin opening.

Once they're fully open, the demon inclines his head in a gesture to follow him. Elizabeth immediately steps a few paces behind him, while Merlin walks behind her. The walk up the castle steps is silent, too silent; Elizabeth decides to break it with a question.

"Um, excuse me?"

"What is it?"

"W-what is your name? If you don't mind me asking, of course," Elizabeth says, trying to keep the tremble from her voice.

The demon does not turn around, let alone falter in his steps. "Zeldris," he tells her, after a moment of silence. "My name is Zeldris."

~.~.~

If there's one thing he will never enjoy when it comes to being King, it's the piles and piles of paperwork that come with the title. Many of them are complaints from the lower class, as to be expected. Even while left with little restrictions, especially when it comes to violent encounters with other races, they are rarely left satisfied. But a King must do what he must, even with problems that are below him.

He lifts the steaming cup of tea left for him by a servant and takes it to his mouth. For a moment, he basks in the bitter taste and the warmth that flows down his throat. Then, as soon as he places it down, he starts reading through the next stack left on his desk. The more he reads, the more reports he leafs through, the more his black eyes narrow.

"Disappearances, huh?" He can't help but mutter, his interest heightened as he reads the reports more closely. "By whom...?"

"What are you doing?"

He freezes at the small voice. From a fringe of tousled blond, he shifts his cool gaze to the left and sees the head of a teddy bear sticking out from behind his desk. The stuffed animal is a mangled thing, with fangs glued to its mouth and stitches along its body, souvenirs of sharp little teeth and small hands constantly tearing it apart, only to ask someone to put it back together. The frost in his eyes melts for only a fraction of a second as he observes that the little bear is now lacking a button eye; he'll have to ask a servant to sew a new one back in. Then he shifts to look at the small pale hands holding the teddy bear up, shaking it expectantly.

"I'm working," he answers her.

She hums under her breath, likely pouting and puffing her cheeks. "You're always _working_. But what are you _doing_?"

"King's business."

"What kind of King's business?"

His mouth twitches, almost quirks upwards, even as annoyance runs through him. The way it always does whenever she sneaks into his study. Speaking of which...

As his eyes narrow, he asks, "How did you get in here?"

"I played with the lock," she admits so casually, shaking her bear to make it look like it's also speaking. "I was bored."

He quirks a brow, his tone dull as he asks, "Don't you have a mother and father to bother?"

"Daddy's doing his rounds. Mommy is in her piano room. She's," the child pauses, as if searching for the right words. "She's...having one of her bad days."

At this he tenses, but again only for a moment. He props his chin along his curled knuckles and tilts his face downward to hide his eyes further.

 _'Bad days...of course_ ,' he thinks with a deep frown. He swallows the feeling welling up from his chest, refuses to call it a name, and then turns his attentions back to the teddy bear. Finally he allows his mouth to quirk, allows himself to wear a crooked smile.

"Come," he tells her.

A small gasp, sounding like disbelief, and then a giggle. The teddy bear is pulled down and then a pair of little feet pitter-patter on the floor as she nearly stumbles around the desk. The child is wearing a dark green dress with short, poofy sleeves and a white lace trim. She is still small, enough to reach past his knee, enough for even that bear to look huge in her arms. Her pitch black hair is plaited in a French braid that hangs long against her back, and her blue eyes gleam like crystals as she smiles up at him. He leans down to gently grasp under her armpits and lifts her to sit on his lap.

She giggles sweetly and looks around the desk. "Is this your work?"

"Yes it is," he answers her.

"What is it? What are people writing to you about?"

"The usual, really. Conflicts between demons, conflicts with other races. Complaints about taxes and the like."

She twists her mouth into a pout, her eyes narrowing as she mutters, "Sounds boring."

 _'Oh, little one, you have no idea.'_ He chuckles deeply and tells her, a bit of mischief twinkling in his eye, "Oh, but there is something rather interesting. Right here, in these reports."

"Really? What is it?" She asks, blinking wide eyes at the papers.

He glances again at the reports again, feeling an eerie weight along his chest. Like he's facing something familiar.

"These are reports from some scouts in Britannia," he explains. "Of some of our people going missing."

"Missing? But...who's taking them?"

"I'm not sure. But there seems to be some other trouble happening in Britannia—not sure how related that is yet," he adds as an afterthought.

"Do you think it's the humans?" She asks.

He lets out a snort, a cruel smirk growing along his face. "Doubtful," he tells her. "Of all the races in this world, humans are the lowest, practically insects compared to the rest of us."

She gives him a look, a sadness shadowing her eyes. "Even me...?"

He pauses, stares down at her with an unreadable expression for a long period of time. Then he again smirks down at her and rustles her hair, which brings her smile back.

"Of course," he declares confidently. "Zaneta, I have no doubt that you will be as mighty as any child in this kingdom. And anyone who says otherwise can come talk to me personally."

Zaneta smiles and leans back to snuggle her cheek against his shoulder. "Thank you, Uncle Meliodas."

Meliodas smirks down at his niece and pats her head once more. He opens his mouth to speak again, but then pauses. There's a sudden shift in the air, a new presence that's entered his castle-no, _two_. His eyes narrow, the gaze in them frosting over with suspicion and a little more than ire, as his arm unconsciously tightens his hold on Zaneta. Zaneta immediately notices the change and looks around before suddenly going still, her eyes clouding over.

"There's someone here," she says, her tone vacant, as if in a trance. "Two people. They're with Daddy. But that's not right, Daddy doesn't just let anyone in. He's too careful..."

"Yes, that is strange," Meliodas comments softly, frowning. He regards Zaneta with a stony look, recognizing what it means when her eyes are glazed over like that. "Can you see them?"

"Yes. They're two ladies. They came from Britannia," Zaneta answers. "One of them has a lot of...a lot of e-energy around her. It's old, but strong. The other has it too, but...I don't think she knows how to use it yet. They both look human, but...don't really _feel like it_. I-I can't explain it…I'm sorry," she cries out suddenly, blinking to reveal her eyes being clearer, more lucid. Her expression dims as she frowns. "I wasn't able to get more. Not even their faces."

Meliodas places a hand to her upper back and nods, his expression serious but not upset. "It's alright," he tells her. "You still did good. Are you feeling okay?"

"Y-yeah, but I'm also scared," Zaneta says, her eyes wide and mouth trembling. "Are we in trouble?"

"Of course not," he tells her, missing no beat. "We just have some... _visitors_ , that's all." With that said, Meliodas places Zaneta down on the floor and gently pushes her towards the door. "Now, off with you! A child should be off playing, not sticking herself inside castle walls, much less a boring study."

Zaneta stares back at him, her eyes wide and curious, but then she nods. "'Kay!" She says cheerily as she skips out the door.

"Oh, and Zaneta?"

"Uh-huh?"

Meliodas regards her with a placid smile, his eyes guarded. "If your father asks for me, make sure to tell him I'll be in the throne room."

"...'Kay."

He watches as Zaneta closes the door to his study, keeping his smile up until the door clicks shut. Once he's certain he's alone, Meliodas drops his smile and the chill in his gaze fully returns. He places his palms on his desk and pushes off his chair. He steps away from his desk to the other side of his study, where he has a spare closet for clothing that carries more regality than his casual wear. After surveying the closet, Meliodas chooses a royal longcoat, red and charcoal with gold on the trimmings and some armored plating and feathers along the shoulders.

Meliodas fastens the coat closed with a series of brass buttons, leaving it open enough at the collar to show the white button-up he's wearing underneath. After smoothing the coat along his form, he shuts the closet and moves to the mantel over his fireplace, where his crown-made of gleaming gold, with blood-colored rubies encrusted around the circlet and along the peaks-sits along a velvet pillow. Meliodas regards his crown with a dull, almost bored looking expression, and then places it along his head. For a moment, he considers the first time it was placed on his head, in a rather rushed and almost desperate inauguration ceremony; after all, it had been after the Goddesses declared war on the Demons.

Back then, having this crown on his head felt like a victory, especially given the circumstances. He had been ready for war, to avenge his grievances against the Goddess Clan and whichever goddess who _dared_ to take his everything. He had clung to the thirst for blood, the searing wrath born from fresh grief, and to his duty to his clan, his growing family.

Now, though? Meliodas contemplates the weight of the crown on his head with a small frown. Then he shrugs. It's just headwear. And he still feels nothing.

 _'Honestly, that's nothing new.'_ This has been his life since the seal was broken years ago. _No_ , even before then. Meliodas knows that most of the feelings that made his hearts thrum, the very few good and the absolute awful, had truly died long, _long_ ago.

And yet, as he walks out of his study, however, Meliodas allows himself to smirk with a cruel sort of hope. _'Perhaps these new guests will prove entertaining…'_


	2. Make it Through Again

**-Part 2: Make it Through Again-**

Even as a child, Elizabeth had heard much about demons. Most of them had been horror stories, stories that either Veronica or a mischievous Howzer would tell her softly, with the intention of scaring her. And because Elizabeth was small and impressionable as a child, she believed everything they told her. Especially when Holy Knights would come back after battling demons, ranting and raving about the destruction and horror they mercilessly unleashed on humans. Growing up with that, it's hard for Elizabeth to even imagine the demons as anything other than monsters.

 _'_ _And yet,'_ she thinks as her breath hitches, as her blue eye blinks slowly at her surroundings. For as she walks behind Zeldris down a particularly long hallway, Elizabeth quickly observes the array of oil paintings and tapestries that hang on the walls, the plush carpet along the floor, and even the molding along the walls and doors they pass. A lot of the images in the paintings are violent scenes, of bloody battles long past, of course; but the _skill_ it took to create them, the artistry...Elizabeth can't help but be amazed.

With an unconscious smile, nostalgic and tinged with sadness, she even thinks, _'It reminds me a little of home.'_

Elizabeth blinks wide eyes at the idea, and then quickly shakes her head. What was she thinking? Is she truly so easily pleased, even in the face of demons? She frowns at her behavior, at the slight flutter to her heart. She can't let herself be enthralled by beauty, as grim as it might me. Isn't that how demons prey on others? By ensnaring them with a false sense of security, by appealing to one's fancies. Elizabeth shakes it off and faces forward, schooling her expression into a blank mask. _'Can't have that now.'_

"...Where _is_ he? Damn bastard probably cloaked his power again." She hears Zeldris mutter under his breath, more annoyed than angry. Once he stops at an open foyer that leads to a spiral of stairs covered in lush, maroon carpet, he pauses to think. "Maybe his study…?"

"Do you often lose track of your King?" Merlin asks wryly, almost like she can't help it.

"Only when he doesn't feel like being found," he snorts knowingly, indicating that this is a common occurrence.

Elizabeth quirks a brow. "Sounds pretty isolating."

"Well, we're demons. We're not exactly known for being friendly with each other, let alone anyone else." As he throws her a wry smirk, Zeldris adds, "Figures our king would be the more anti-social of us."

As her brows draw back downward, Elizabeth stares as Zeldris turns away to continue thinking of places the Demon King could be. Was that...supposed to be a joke? Demons joke? And to be so casual, regarding and joking about his king in such a way…. How does he even get away with that? She hums, letting her thoughts wander for a moment, when she sees Zeldris go stiff and his eyes narrow sharply. Stepping away from Elizabeth and Merlin, he turns his head side to side, his hands clenching and loosening at his sides, until his gaze finally lands on the staircase. Then, as he tips head upwards, his eyes widen and his face goes pale. Elizabeth tilts her head, wondering what could cause that, when-

"Hi, Daddy!"

 _'_ _...Daddy?'_ With wide eyes, Elizabeth looks up and finds the source for the small voice.

"Daddy?" Merlin asks, her lips quirking up into a smirk as she also looks up; then she blinks. "...Oh."

For at the top of the long and very high staircase, right along the iron rail, sits a black-haired girl who looks at least five years old, wearing a green dress and kicking away little feet while she holds a mangled teddy bear. She grins down at Zeldris, revealing gleaming teeth, including little…fangs?

Zeldris puts his slightly shaking hands up, and says with more than a slight edge to his jaw, "Zaneta, _stay right there_ , understand me. I'm coming right up!"

"But I wanna try flying again," the girl says with a slight pout.

The sound Zeldris lets out borders on a choke as he glares. "You most certainly will _not_ ," he tells her in a tone that makes Elizabeth's mouth twitch upwards, despite feeling stunned at the scene. She wouldn't be surprised if Zeldris stomped his foot.

But the little girl, Zaneta just smiles and stands up on the rail. She lifts one foot off the rail and spreads her arms. Her blue eyes gleam as she calls with a teasing lilt, "Here I go~"

Before Elizabeth can panic, Zeldris exhales a sharp breath and disappears in a blur. He appears high above them, seems to hover right in front of Zaneta before grabbing her, and then speeding right back down to where he stood. When Elizabeth blinks, Zeldris is holding a giggling Zaneta at arm's length and meeting her smile with a glare, though it is lacking any real heat.

"Don't you laugh, this is not a laughing matter," he grumbles to her.

Zaneta giggles, her feet kicking in the air. "But your face is funny!"

With a low growl, Zeldris rolls his eyes up to the ceiling and then loops an arm around her stomach, now holding her like she's a sack of of potatoes. He turns around and blinks at Elizabeth and Merlin, his eyes now wide as he notices how the latter is covering up her smile and the former is smirking. His gaze darts back to the smiling child under his arm, then to them; Zeldris clears his throat, smoothing his expression to the cool mask he'd donned before.

"This is Zaneta," he introduces casually, gently shaking the arm holding said child. "She likes sweets and giving me a heart attack every hour of every day."

"Hi, hi!" Zaneta says, waving at them.

Elizabeth lets out a snort that quickly becomes a giggle as she smiles wider. She lifts the hand on her mouth and waves at her. "Hello," she says.

Merlin chuckles and waves also, her eyes gleaming.

Zaneta blinks wide eyes, looking from Elizabeth and Merlin. "Are you two here to see my uncle?"

 _'_ _Uncle…?'_ Elizabeth narrows her eyes, her brow furrowing.

"Yes, they are," Zeldris answers, glancing down at Zaneta. "Do you know where he is?"

"He said he'll be in the throne room."

" _Of_ _course_ he will."

"What are they here for, though, Daddy?"

" _And_ that's all we're having for today," Zeldris drawls as he steps away from Elizabeth and Merlin.

When he's far enough across the vast room, he places her down and crouches down in front of her, the edge in his expression softening somewhat as he speaks to her softly, not exactly in a scolding tone, but still firm. Zaneta replies something in a whine, stomping her left foot lightly, while Zeldris shakes his head. She crosses her arms over her teddy bear and buries her pout in it. His shoulders shake for a moment and as he rustles her hair; and then Zeldris is gently turning his daughter around, telling her softly, "Go home to your mother. I'll join you two when I'm finished."

Elizabeth sees Zaneta's shoulders slump, her face turning to look at him. "Okay, Daddy," she says, her tone apologetic.

Zeldris ruffles her hair again, and then watches as Zaneta walks out of the foyer through a hallway on the left, presumably towards wherever they live. Elizabeth finds herself watching the scene closely, swearing that she sees his mouth quirk up, just a mite as his daughter leaves….

As her brow furrows, Elizabeth feels a lump grow in her throat. She remembers how her father used to smile down at her, how he worried over her, especially if she wandered off and acted on whatever impulse would hit her. She remembers the warmth of his chest as he held her, either out of love or protection from the night terrors that used to haunt her. Elizabeth's hands cringe over her chest with a grief that's still new, one that will haunt her for a long time.

She lets the feeling overwhelm her, but only until Zeldris stands up and turns around to face them again. He gives Elizabeth a pointed look, making her stiffen and school her face back to something more composed as he walks back to her and Merlin. Zeldris nods towards a hallway on the right, and walks towards it. "Throne room's this way," he says.

Elizabeth follows Zeldris into the hallway, only pausing when Merlin places a hand on her shoulder. She looks to the older woman to see that she's smirking at something behind them, on the ceiling. Elizabeth tilts her head upward and her mouth drops open-because, crawling on the ceiling with her teddy bear strapped to her back, is Zaneta. The girl notices the two women looking at her and she smiles down at them, before placing a finger to her lips. Then she continues crawling after them, not too close but not too far either.

Even as her mouth quirks upward, Elizabeth can't help but feel that lump again, especially as she directs her gaze to Zeldris' back.

Fortunately, the walk to get to the throne room isn't long or far. Elizabeth feels she knows they reach it once they're at the end of the hallway, when she's facing a pair of huge, looming doors made of a mix of brass and stone. In the doors are carvings of demonic figures and other symbols unique to the Demon Clan, involved in grisly scenes similar to the oil paintings they passed.

As she stares up at the door, Elizabeth feels her stomach begin to churn. This is it. The moment she's been dreading since she left the refugee camps in Camelot. The moment she'd hoped would never, _ever_ come in her lifetime. The moment that has to happen.

"...Tell me you didn't come all this way just to look at a door."

Elizabeth jumps and nearly whirls around to see Zeldris regarding her with a flat look, his arms folded over his chest. Then she looks to Merlin, who is regarding her with a small smile, half-amused and half-encouraging. Elizabeth swallows and turns back to Zeldris.

"S-sorry, I was just…" She clears her throat and steps aside for him. "Do...do you need to announce I'm here, or…?"

Zeldris snorts, his mouth quirking up into a smirk that looks too amused as he steps up to one door. "Unlikely," he says. "He probably already knows."

"Oh, wonderful!" Elizabeth puts on a smile as she mentally sobs, ' _...Crap.'_

Under Zeldris' palm, the door opens easy, if not with a creak. He opens it just enough for Elizabeth to slip inside, and then turns to give her a pointed, expectant look. Elizabeth swallows hard, her heart thudding hard against her ribs. She clasps her trembling hands and tries to rub at them, to get her nerves to calm. _'I can't do this,'_ is the mantra going through her head, as Elizabeth's breathing goes shallow. _'I can't, I can't, I_ _ **really**_ _can't-'_

Merlin lets out a sigh and again places a hand on Elizabeth's shoulder. When Elizabeth glances at her, she finds that the mage is still regarding her with encouragement.

"You can," Merlin tells her, almost a perfect echo of Elizabeth's doubts. "You can, and you must."

(Honestly, what is the item that makes Merlin believe in Elizabeth so much? Because whatever it is, Elizabeth just wants to know where she can get one of her own.)

But Elizabeth returns the statement with a smile, and then nods. This is something she needs to do. She faces the open door again and takes a deep breath; once she exhales, she nods to herself. Then, Elizabeth steps inside the throne room. She listens as the door creaks behind her, cringing slightly as it clicks closed. But then she hardens her expression, tightens her hands into fists on either side of her, and then steps along the path towards the throne. There's no turning back now.

Along the walls of the room are long tapestries of crimson, each embroidery depicting a different demon wearing a gold crown with red jewels. Elizabeth realizes quickly that these demons were former kings of the realm. The line of tapestries leads to an elevated throne of stone, where _he_ is stepping around, but not sitting in.

Despite all the stories she'd heard, all the things she'd read, Elizabeth was never sure how she should picture the Demon King. She supposes she'd expected him to be a looming figure, for his form to be monstrous-some cross between a Red and Grey demon-perhaps even having horns curled at his head. But the man standing near his throne, head tipped downward to read closely the parchment in his hands, is nothing like that. Not even close.

He stands at the same height as Zeldris, perhaps a little taller, with wild blond hair that frames his face, fringes before his eyes. Also like Zeldris, his face looks young...and yet, there is a sort of edge to it that belies his age, that there's more beyond his presumed youth. The long, regal coat he wears, black and red and gold, fits along his form enough to show the the confident line of his shoulders, the strength in his arms and torso. Along with the black pants he wears, the leather boots that go up to his knees, and of course the crown atop his head, the Demon King looks like how you'd picture a normal king to look like.

"...Don't tell me you came all this way just to stare at me." A voice, unexpectedly smooth and carrying a tenor that makes Elizabeth's heart thump. With wide eyes, Elizabeth notes how his lips curl into a smirk that bespeaks cruelty, ill intent, as he speaks again, "What? Am I truly so-?"

Just as he turns to face her, with eyes cold and as black as the mark swirling along his forehead, he pauses. The color drains from his face, a pale sick green gathering at his neck, and the parchments slowly fall from his hands, forgotten, no longer important. His mouth closes, then parts just the slightest as he sends Elizabeth a rather wide-eyed stare that she feels like a hit to the chest.

Then, just as quickly, his brow draws downward to narrow his eyes and his whole face warps into a snarl.

 _"_ _What is the meaning of this?"_

Elizabeth blinks, taken aback. She swallows into her dry throat and tries to speak, "Um…"

But he is already walking towards her, in ominous steps down from his throne, the impact of his boots on the stone floor like a tolling bell. His very being seems to pulse with a heat that can consume anything, a _hatred_ that kills; a power that feels unending. Just like the legends.

As she starts trembling again, Elizabeth slowly begins stepping backwards, doing whatever she can to put distance between them, but the Demon King remains undaunting.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" He asks of her, his voice guttural in his building rage. When Elizabeth can't answer, her heartbeat too loud, he roars, " _Answer me, damn it!_ "

"Elizabeth!" She cries out, like a breath of air. The glare he sends her is withering, _blazing_ , like she'd just said something wrong, but Elizabeth continues, "M-m-my name is E-Elizabeth and-"

" _Liar._ "

"I...what?"

But he doesn't answer. With his mouth still twisted into a sneer, the Demon King expels a power that twists in the air, like a tornado of darkness itself. Once it spreads like a bird of prey, it flies towards Elizabeth in a wave of black and purple. Elizabeth watches it with wide eyes, heart in her throat; and then, she whips around and starts running for the door.

She doesn't even get close enough before the darkness wraps around her, looping tight around her arms and then her legs. Elizabeth screams and struggles against the force wrapping around her but it's too strong. She feels it drag her backwards, back to _him_ , and makes her to turn back around. The darkness wrapped around her forces her arms to fold behind her back, and her legs to bend, making her kneel on the floor. Even then, despite being overwhelmed with terror, Elizabeth tries to struggle and cry out in protest, or for help. The darkness itself doesn't cause her pain, but it does leave a foreboding pulse along her body, one she even feels through her clothes.

Then a hand is gripping Elizabeth's long silver hair right by the root and pulling her head back. Elizabeth lets out a pained cry but blinks up to meet an enraged glare of pitch black, her chest heaving from shallow breaths.

"S-stop, please," she whimpers.

He seems to ignore her, his eyes narrowing as he growls, "I will not ask again: _Who the fuck are you?_ And who sent you?"

Elizabeth opens her mouth to answer, but can only let out a choked sound. Her eyes sting with tears, but she clenches them closed. She will not show tears, not to him.

He tugs on her hair again, this time more painfully. "Did _Estarossa_ put you up to this? Enchant you somehow to put on her face?"

"W-what... _what are you talking about?_ " Elizabeth can't help but scream as she gapes at him. " _Whose_ face? And who is…?"

The darkness flickering at her throat begins to wrap around the flesh, putting a subtle but rather frightening pressure. Elizabeth now feels the tears roll freely, despite her wishes.

Though the rage still fumes from his gaze, the Demon King smirks cruelly at Elizabeth. The hand that was in her hair now moves to cup the back of her neck, pressing his thumb and fingers pressing against her pulse, almost stroking the skin. Elizabeth shudders at the touch, her stomach turning to knots as she again closes her eyes. _'What do I do? What do I_ _ **do**_ _? Father, please, what do I…?'_

Her eyes pop wide open in realization.

"You better tell me," he nearly purrs. "Otherwise I will have to ruin this pretty little neck…"

" _Baltra!"_

"...What?"

"Baltra," Elizabeth repeats, putting as much certainty as she can into his voice. "Baltra sent me."

Everything goes still, at least for a moment. His fingers along her throat, the darkness wrapped around her body, and even the harsh breaths exhaled from both of them. Elizabeth stares up to meet his glower with an expression that she hopes is firm, for she refuses to wilt under him, despite her restraints. And then, finally, he removes his hand and steps away from her.

"Old man Liones?" He asks, his eyes narrowing, this time with confusion. As he turns away from her, Elizabeth hears him murmur, "But how did he even know about…?"

Elizabeth uses this moment to struggle harder against his darkness, to think about the ways she can fight against this. Could she call up Ark? Would it work against this? But with the way the darkness is pressing against her hands, suppressing her as it is, _how_ …?

She gasps suddenly, feeling the coils tighten slightly. When she looks at him, Elizabeth sees him frowning at her with a quirked brow, one hand curled ominously at his side. She glares back at him.

"Don't be cute," he warns before asking, "Now, who are you to Baltra? Why would he send you to me?"

"I'm his daughter," Elizabeth nearly bites out. Then, in rememberance, her expression dims. "I...I _was_ his daughter."

"'Was'...?"

"Baltra is...he's dead."

He blinks, his expression going blank as he stares at Elizabeth. He tilts his head in thought, his eyes seeming to search her face or any secrets or lies-or perhaps another reason to hurt her. Whatever he sees in Elizabeth's despondent face must be enough, however, because then he nods.

"That is a pity," he says, turning to face a wall. "He wasn't the worst of humans out there. Do you know who killed him?"

Elizabeth hesitates before answering, "Yes. And that's why I've come to get you."

" _Get me?_ Why would...oh." His brows draw down into a flat line, his gaze becoming empty. "You're here because of _that_ , correct? That big vision Liones had?"

Elizabeth brightens a little, and then nods.

"Well, _in that case_ , I will tell you what I told him ten years ago," the Demon King drawls, his lips curling into a smirk before purring out a word, smooth as velvet, " _No_."

She feels her heart stop. "...What?"

But he's already turning around as he speaks, his smirk visible even in his voice. "Sorry, but whatever disaster your daddy dearest predicted is no problem of mine," he says. "Find someone else to join his band of fools."

 _'_ _...No. No! He didn't even let me...how could he?'_ Elizabeth tries to voice this, her mind still blank and her throat still tight, and not just from his darkness. There is no way he's that heartless, is he?

"Also: I never want to see _you_ inside my castle, _no_ my realm, **_ever again_**."

At this Elizabeth finds the strength to speak, and she once again struggles against her restraints. "No, _no_! Please, there's so much more I have to say-"

He chuckles darkly, "And _I_ don't have to listen, so."

He lifts a hand and with a flick of his wrist, the darkness restraining Elizabeth becomes a cocoon and lifts her in the air. Elizabeth screams at the sensation, only able to move her head and neck, for everything else is covered. With his power pulsing around the throne room, it's easy for Elizabeth to notice the tendrils of power swirling around and then focusing on the throne doors-which they push open.

He turns his head to give her a side glance, his mouth still curved in that cold smirk as he tells her, "Go home, little princess. And never come back."

And with another flick of her hand, before Elizabeth can even scream at him, the darkness around her flies out the doors and deposits her down on the floor, where Merlin and Zeldris are still waiting. As Elizabeth is left sitting, her knees drawn up as she leans back on her palms, she watches wide-eyed as the tendrils of darkness is sucked back inside the throne room like vacuum. And then, the doors slam closed.

In the silence that follows, with Elizabeth staring at the door with a rather vacant, wide eyed gaze, Merlin quickly crouches beside her while Zeldris watches them with a blank expression. Merlin wraps an arm around Elizabeth and places her other hand on the Queen's free shoulder.

"Elizabeth, are you okay?" She asks, her voice not rising but her eyes still darting along Elizabeth's form, searching for any bruises or injuries. "I apologize, I didn't know that would happen…"

"He...he didn't even let me speak."

Merlin blinks at the odd tone in Elizabeth's voice, but doesn't comment on it. She just rubs at the young woman's shoulders, tries to sooth the tension she finds there.

"I-I didn't do anything. He just took one look at me and," Elizabeth breaks off with a choke, placing a hand over her throat. "And just...it was awful. Just _awful_."

Frowning deeply, Merlin cuts a glare to the closed doors, and simmers in thought. As Elizabeth starts trembling, her head tipped downward to make her bangs hide her eyes, Zeldris continues staring.

"And the way he talked about my father...the way he just dismissed everything he said, the way he dismissed _me_ …." Elizabeth clenches her other hand into a tight fist on the floor. "Like we're _nothing_ …."

Still unnoticed, Zeldris narrows his eyes and folds his arms over his chest. He leans one arm on the wall next to the doors and waits-and luckily, he doesn't have to wait long.

Shuddering from her shoulders to her legs, Elizabeth finally lifts her head to send a glare to the doors. Her teeth are clenched, her hair is mussed, and her blue eye-still the only one showing, oddly enough-carries a look that could only be described as _burning_. Merlin blinks and lifts her arms from Elizabeth, leaning away, but not out of fear; her gold eyes gleam with shock, and perhaps curiosity.

As soon as she's out of Merlin's hold, Elizabeth jumps to her feet and throws a look to Zeldris.

"Open the door," she commands him, almost in a growl.

Zeldris only quirks a brow. "Did you not experience enough? Or do you truly have a death wish, human?"

Elizabeth sneers at him, showing a bit of her teeth as she snaps, "I did not come all this way to leave with nothing, _demon_. So, if you don't mind: _Open the damn door._ "

A beat goes by as Zeldris' calm eyes and Elizabeth's glare lock in a silent battle. Then Zeldris slowly begins to smirks, his eyes flashing with a knowledge that Elizabeth doesn't understand, but honestly doesn't care to. As she faces the doors again, her heart pounding and some of her power sparking from her fingertips, all Elizabeth knows that she will not be leaving anytime soon. Not without what she's owed.

~.~.~

As soon as the doors slam closed, his power folds back inside him, causing the throne room to shudder from the impact. As his cruel and cold expression falls, Meliodas finally allows himself to breathe, his exhale sharp and painful. He leans one hand on a wall, bowed slightly at the waist as he stares down at the floor. His eyes are wide, madly so; and the black pitch of his gaze becomes empty as he's taken far away...to memories he'd hoped were long, _long_ buried.

 _"_ _What do you want? If you couldn't already tell, demon, I'm not in the mood."_

 **"** **...** ** _You're him? You're the demon I'm being forced to work with!"_**

 _"_ _...You do what no others have."_

 **…**

 **...**

 _"_ _...Would you love me if I asked you to?"_

Feeling bile rise, Meliodas slams a hand to his mouth. He can't move. He's not even sure he's breathing. All he's aware of is the painful thud of his hearts as they beat out of sync, an old ache tightening his chest and his throat; all he can hear is the ringing of rushing blood through his ears—and her voice. The voice, the memories that haunt his dreams. Furious, defiant, self-righteous, _beautiful_ , and...and...

 _"_ _What makes you think that there will be more times, Meliodas? Our job is done, and I don't want … this."_

Cold. _So_ very cold. Like she'd never had a heart at all, like she was the cruelest goddess in the world, and once he'd thought so with the vehemence of a sun.

He clutches his chest, breathing more painfully, suddenly brought back to another time when she'd been cold. When she was in his arms for one last time. Her sitting against a wall, in a dark room hidden from the world, where nothing but awful things happened to people, and blood seeping from her deep wounds. So much blood. Who knew a goddess could bleed so much?

("...It's okay, Meliodas. I'm not afraid. I'm not...")

Finally, too overwhelmed, Meliodas hisses out a curse and falls to his knees. Over the harshness of his breathing, he realizes that some of his power exhaled with his outburst and has begun shimmering in the air, waiting to destroy everything in his path. He shuts his eyes tightly and tries to get control of his faculties, control of...whatever is threatening the very tight locks he has on his darkness.

 _'_ _That isn't her_ ,' Meliodas starts to tell himself as his vision clears, as what he knows is real and normal comes back to him. _'That girl, that_ _ **human**_ _might have her face, her hair, her voice, her body...but that is_ _ **not**_ _her. It can't be. You know why.'_

Of course he does. It's Meliodas' fault that Elizabeth died.

But still, _what the fuck_. How cruel could the fates be, really? Is it not enough that he lives with everything that happened, all the consequences of his actions? Is it not enough that Meliodas lives with the knowledge that Elizabeth didn't love him back? Because whoever is responsible for...for _whoever_ it was who walked into his throne room, they are _cruel_. They got every detail _right_ —from the curves of her legs, to the dip of her waist, the size of her breasts, her soft face, and _shit_ even the shade of blue in the eye that stared up at him. She carried no light, but had a warmth to her that reminded him of fresh spring grass, a familiar sweetness that somehow made him feel both sick and longing.

Her clothing was different, of course. Unlike the flowing, regal skirts and tops his goddess would wear, the girl who'd stepped up to his throne was wearing a dark tunic with an armor that worked similar to an overbust bodice, which peaked at her hips, where the dark tunic would flare out like a skirt that ends at mid-thigh. Covering her legs was a pair of tight leather pants that had been tucked into a pair of boots, while a brown hooded cloak was fastened around her shoulders, flowing behind her like a cape. The wear itself wasn't very peasant-like, but it definitely seemed ordinary, something his Elizabeth definitely was not.

Meliodas finally stands up, only wobbling a little before getting a firm footing. Then he walks back up to the elevated throne, turning to walk along the platform until he's in front of a cart with a crystal bottle of a dark brandy. He lifts the lid of the bottle and pours the alcohol into a shot glass that covers his whole palm. _'It isn't her,'_ Meliodas tells himself once more as he tips the glass back, revels in how the drink burns down his throat. It's a truth that sours his stomach, but he doesn't fight it. To consider the alternative is a fool's hope; Meliodas refuses to be made a fool ( _again_ ).

 _'_ _And yet,'_ is the thought, stubborn, prickling his brain with doubt. Meliodas recalls the details of the human's face, even the sound of her voice, and his hearts shudder. He narrows his eyes and thinks again, _'And yet….'_

But Meliodas doesn't get the time to linger on it, to try and figure out what any of this means-not when the doors slam open, followed by a firm stride of leather boots on the floor. He narrows his eyes, but doesn't turn around.

"I told you to leave," he says instead, making sure not to give away any emotion, not like before. He can't lose control like that again.

But Elizabeth— _the human_ does not back down, not this time. "I'm not leaving until you and I talk," she grinds out, her voice a lot firmer and... _angrier._

Meliodas' hand twitches around the glass as he pours himself another drink, his chest panging at the sense of _familiar_ , but he shows nothing more than that.

"We've already talked."

" _That_ was not talking," she nearly hisses. "Y-you didn't even let me finish, you just started accusing me or something, and then _hurting_ me-"

"You seem fine to me, if you're able to walk back here and disturb me," Meliodas says casually, swishing the filled glass in his palm. "But that can quickly change."

She seems to inhale sharply, her exhale shuddering. From his peripheral vision, Meliodas can see her fists clenched tightly at her sides and trembling; he doesn't move his gaze further than that. Finally, she seems to take a calming breath.

"I apologize for disturbing you, _Your_ _Majesty_ ," she bites out, the words sounding rehearsed. "But I must ask you to please listen to what I have to tell you."

Why hasn't he thrown her out again? Better question: _Why didn't he kill her?_ There is no reason for Meliodas to even humor this human and her problems, no matter who her father was. And he certainly does not want to be in her presence more than he has to be, let alone even _look at her_.

 _'_ _And yet,'_ Meliodas can't help but slowly move his gaze to her face. He sees the blue in her eye burn into him with a defiance that should have been stifled with their previous confrontation, even as she keeps her whole person schooled. Most humans wouldn't get the nerve to barge into his throne room, especially after being thrown out, _especially_ if Meliodas had felt "merciful" enough to let them live. Curling his mouth into a shrewd smirk, he turns around and leans back a little against the cart.

"And why should I?" He drawls.

"Because you may think this problem won't be yours, just because it's happening in Britannia, but I assure you, _you are wrong_."

Narrowing his eyes just a mite, Meliodas slowly begins drumming his fingers against the cart. "Go on," he says.

She looks at him for a thought, and then lowers her gaze with a hard swallow. Her gaze becomes clouded, her expression going dim.

"A few months ago, a series of attacks began around Liones," she explains solemnly. "At first, it was small. Random people being killed, or going missing while walking through a forest. Then whole villages were left in pieces...but I think that was all just a test. The real attack came on Liones, a month ago. We thought at first it was just _them_. That they were attacking us like any horde of monsters would attack a kingdom...but they were just the distraction. The real attack happened inside the castle, led by one of our Grand Masters, Lord Hendrickson."

Meliodas had narrowed his eyes at the mention of the attacks, especially in reference to people going missing or being killed, but said nothing. There is something strange about her story, something about it that makes the back of his mind prickle. Like something he forgot, yet truly didn't. And the idea of one man being involved with bloodthirsty monsters? Meliodas places the glass down and folds his arms over his chest, deciding to listen more closely as (Elizabeth) _she_ continues.

"A couple hundred people managed to get out, including myself, my eldest sister, and some Holy Knights who managed to escape with us," she says, "We've been staying at another kingdom for a while, trying to regroup, figure out what to do next. But there are still people trapped in Liones, trapped under Hendrickson's rule. I don't know what he's planning exactly, but I know he's managed to get some of the Holy Knights left there under his influence-by force or otherwise, I'm still not sure-and he's still letting those...those _things_ loose. Not just in Liones anymore either, or even on humans," she adds in a choke.

When she raises her gaze back to him, her blue is gleaming and her jaw is clenched as she tells him, "Your Majesty, you told me to go home. There isn't a home for me to return to, for anyone who's left to go back to. If I go back to Liones now, I will be killed. And I can't let that happen, not while there is still something else I can do to help."

And Meliodas shouldn't be jostled by such a statement, shouldn't clench his hands the way he is right now. He should not feel a sick, gut twisting terror at the idea of this…this _human_ being killed, no matter how perfectly she resembles his goddess. But Meliodas can't deny that there's something achingly familiar about how she's squaring her shoulders, in how she glares at him. The idea of her blood being spilled is bothersome, much as Meliodas wants to ignore it.

He scowls.

"This sounds more and more like a human problem," Meliodas tells her as he takes steps along the throne's platform, his expression darkening with each word. "I still don't understand what this has to do with me-let alone your father's damn vision. Why should _I_ drop everything to help humans, let alone the other races? You know, three-fourths of the clans who sealed me and my brethren away?"

She starts at that, her eye widening. Then she takes a step back and looks behind her. It seems like this hadn't really occurred to her. How many demons had she encountered so far today? Did she think the demons deserved the imprisonment the Goddesses had created with the other clans? Including even those who didn't fight in the war? And she expects _him_ , of all of them, to just _help_? Like the Holy War hadn't even happened. Meliodas lets out a snort at that, his scowl deepening as he looks away. _'Figures. No matter how many years pass, the humans remain the same.'_

"...You're right."

 _'_ _...Oh?'_ He looks back at her, his gaze cool but his hands clenching again, even as she looks up at him, her expression soft again. Empathetic, one might say. Meliodas again feels that familiar curling inside his chest and tries to stifle it.

"You are," she says again, shrugging a little. "I can't claim that this is the disaster my father foretold, and I can't say that asking you to help us would be fair. After all, neither of us have exactly been good to each other, and it'd be naive to start now. And considering your status...the last thing you'd want is to help us humans.

"But I will say this," the girl calling herself Elizabeth says, her voice growing stronger and more confident, until it starts bouncing off the walls of the room. "My father believed that whatever we have to face, whether it's truly Hendrickson or something else yet to come, it's something we can only win against while we're all united. And I do mean _all of us_...because regardless of what I or the rest of Britannia thinks, this world is your home too. You and everyone else here is as much a part of it as we are...which means that you deserve a spot to fight for it too."

Meliodas slowly blinks as his eyes lock on her. He won't deny it, not to himself, that it was a pretty speech. Genuine, too. Even as he looks at her, he sees no trace of mockery or trickery in her face. Most wouldn't be so candid, not about acknowledging demons as more than monsters. Not even Elizabeth, not at first.

"...You will fail," he tells her, almost too calm. "There is no way a group made up of the different races, no matter how powerful or 'united', can ever work together."

A shrewd look comes to her eye, one that makes the blue in her iris gleam like a star, as she tells him, "You don't know that."

"Neither do you."

"Then let's find out."

The smile (Elizabeth) _she_ sends him is small, sweet, _open_. Meliodas hates how his breath catches at the sight, because _it's not her, it's_ _ **not**_ —and hates even more how his hearts stutter and then race when she reaches out a hand. He's so far above her, in more than just his position near his throne, and yet she is jostling him with barely a gesture. No one else has done that, not since...not since three thousand years ago. It's infuriating. It's insulting, the idea of a human having an influence over _him_ , of all people. ( _'What? A goddess wasn't humiliating enough?'_ ) Even more so that she dares to confront him, dares to call attention to herself, to demand she be heard.

He should tell her no. He told her father just as easily when the old man came to see him all those years ago. Even if she is his Elizabeth somehow returned to him—and he refuses to give that any more thought than necessary—that gives Meliodas even less incentive to help her. She had hurt him once, and her death had _destroyed_ him. He can't go through that again. _He won't_.

' _And yet,'_ again Meliodas is drawn to the images of ( _Elizabeth)_ this girl getting hurt, or being killed, and his guts twist at the prospect. And he knows then, much as he wants to deny it and however he protests her identity, Meliodas knows what his choice is—because if he lets this girl walk outside his castle, he will be forever haunted by all the _And yets_ and _What ifs_. The truth is sour on his tongue, but it's something he cannot ignore.

And so, despite his own wishes, Meliodas sighs and turns around to face away from her. "Wait near the outer wall," he tells her. "I'll be there in an hour."

She lets out a gasp, part shock and maybe a little joy, and Meliodas twitches again. He whirls around to glare at her, clenching his hands when he sees her face immediately fall from a near smile. With a scowl, Meliodas leaps from the platform and takes slow steps until he's standing in front of her, staring her down despite her height. A part of him feels a sick glee at the way she swallows, while his hearts thud at how she stares back. She is still afraid of him, Meliodas can tell; but she faces him anyway.

"Don't get too happy, _human_ ," Meliodas growls ominously. "If I feel this mission is as pointless as I'd originally thought, I will come back—and my order towards you will still stand."

"...I-I understand. Anything else?"

"Just this: We may be traveling together, but that doesn't make us friends or comrades, or whatever you expect to happen. Make sure you stay out of my way, or I will make you regret it."

She trembles a little, her face going pale as she no doubts remembers just what he can do. But then, Meliodas comes face to face with her glowering into him, her courage managing to come through whatever fear she has.

"Just as long as you also stay out of mine," she tells him, her voice like ice.

Meliodas stares up at the girl calling herself Elizabeth, this human whose appearance still makes his chest ache with an old pain and likely always will, as long as they're working together. She glowers back at him, nervous but angry, frightened and brave; impossibly beautiful but no doubt as ordinary as any other human. Meliodas slowly realizes, even as he folds his arms across his chest, that he will likely regret this decision for the rest of his days.


End file.
